


Come Down To Me

by peachgalaxy



Category: Ant-Man (Movies), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Ava Starr Has Trust Issues, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes’s Post-Winter Soldier Hydra Revenge World Tour, But This Time With Help, Darcy Lewis Is An Avenger, F/M, Found Families Everywhere, Hurt Wanda Maximoff, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Inhuman Darcy Lewis, Not Canon Compliant, POV Multiple, Pietro Maximoff Lives, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:35:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22623400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachgalaxy/pseuds/peachgalaxy
Summary: They can't change what's been done to them, but they can get revenge.Or, the one where Bucky Barnes finds his way back to himself with the help of his murder family and the Avengers are just trying to keep up.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Darcy Lewis, James "Bucky" Barnes/Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff/Ava Starr, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	Come Down To Me

**Author's Note:**

> This whole thing is nothing but a labor of love between the two of us because we wanted to write something with hurt and comfort for Bucky and Wanda, and it spiraled from there. This is also unbeta'd except for the two of us typing furiously over each other, so be niceeee. :D

_Cold. It’s cold._

_Wait, no it isn’t. Is it?_

_The man on the bridge hadn’t wanted to fight him. His name is Steve? The man from the museum. They looked the same. Steve Rogers is the man on the bridge? His friend? He’s Bucky right? I don’t feel like Bucky. I don’t remember ever feeling like him. How can that be me? Steve wants us to be friends but I don’t remember how._

Bucky blinks awake quickly, muscles tense before slowly releasing. Years of honed skills keep him from being loud when he wakes, that comes in handy when the nightmares plague him and he’s not in a safe place. They are looking for him. He knows it. 

_I’m not safe. Steve isn’t safe. Little boy from Brooklyn? Trash can lids and bloody noses?_

Shaking his head, Bucky tries to clear his jumbled thoughts. An owl hoots from the forest bordering the safe house, must be about a mile within the trees. Bucky knew he wouldn’t sleep anymore. 

**_Better get moving, soldier!_ **

_Soldier? I’m not a soldier….Am I?_

The echoes of gunfire and shouted orders fill his mind and it makes him flinch. He _shouldn’t_ remember anything before the cold, they’d made sure of it. He looks down at the silver arm gleaming in the soft moonlight. His hands will never be spotless again. 

If the little Widow’s ledger is spotted with red, the Soldier’s is soaked with it. 

_I remember all of them._

Gathering his meager possessions into his backpack, he stands, swinging it over his shoulders and snapping the buckle across his chest. It’s comforting, the tightness of the straps. It keeps him grounded. He doesn’t spiral down a lane choked with memories he can’t parse. They’re clouded anyway, like looking through a pool of muddy water into who he used to be. _Bucky_. There was Steve, too. Smaller but still recognizable. The man on the bridge. He’d called him Bucky and said he was his friend. The memories are there, dim but accessible if he wants them.

There are other memories he never wants to revisit. 

The only way Bucky could move was forward and that meant leaving the man on the bridge behind and the man he’d wanted Bucky to be. He’ll never be that man again. He opens the window to the safe house, landing silently in the glass, rolling to take the brunt of the fall. Bucky uses the cover of night to hide him as he makes his way into the woods just as another owl lets out a mournful noise at the waning moon. 

**_—— Sokovia, 2014 ——_ **

“Welcome, children. I understand you’re from nearby? Don’t your parents know you’re here?” 

Wanda and Pietro clutch their joined hands tighter. She knows her twin wants to speak but his smart mouth would only get them killed. They have a job to do before that happens. 

“We’re answering the call. We heard a man named Strucker is looking for volunteers for experiments,” Wanda says softly, dark eyes cutting around the room. 

The building was crawling with men in dark uniforms. There were no insignias that she could identify, but it doesn’t matter if they can do what they promised.

“Right you are, little one. Follow me this way.” 

The twins follow the man down a long hallway. It’s cold in this building, Wanda can only guess it’s been here for years and has no sort of central heating. The man opens a large metal door, leading them into a long rectangular room full of men and women in white coats. Wanda thinks the English word for the room is _laboratory_. 

“Eiseman! I’ve got some volunteers for you. Strucker will meet with them if the procedures take.” 

“These two?” All eyes are on them and Wanda felt Pietro stiffen beside her. “But they are children.”

“Children are better,” a nearby scientist scoffs, “They are malleable and stronger. They will be more accepting of the procedures.”

Eiseman looks the two of them up and down. His eyes linger on Wanda a bit too long and it has Pietro stepping in front of her a fraction. His hand tightens on hers, one part comfort and two parts warning. The scientist approaches them, bright blue eyes calculating their every twitch. 

“I hope you know what you’ve volunteered for.” 

The twins exchange a look.

“It doesn’t matter. You say you want to hurt Tony Stark. So do we,” Wanda says.

“You say we.” Eiseman looks at Pietro. “But you have said nothing.”

Pietro flashes his teeth in the barest imitation of a smile. “I want nothing more.”

Eiseman nods after a minute and beckons the two further into the lab. They’re taken through another set of metal doors into a smaller room. This room is dim and cold. Colder than the rest of the building. A blue glow shines just out of Wanda’s gaze but she keeps her face straight ahead. 

There are tables lined up all along one of the walls. Medical equipment that Wanda has no name for brackets the tables and it occurs to her that each table has four restraints. They’re not tables at all, but beds. 

“Up. Both of you.” 

Pietro blinks in confusion. “What are you planning to do to us?”

Eiseman smiles, cold and cruel. “I thought you said it didn’t matter.”

Pietro swallows thickly and holds Wanda closer to his side. Wanda’s heart pounds like a drum but how much worse could it be? No worse than the pain and loss they have suffered. No worse than the nightmares that plague them both at night. This is what she wants. Stark deserves to suffer like they have. 

_Like we still do._

“Let me go first,” Pietro says, hesitantly releasing Wanda’s hand. 

“Nope, sorry kid. You don’t really have any leverage to be making demands. Both of you will go through the procedure at the same time; Strucker isn’t the type of man who likes to wait.” 

Wanda squeezes Pietro’s hand and tips her chin up to smile. It’s all bravado, he knows her better than he knows himself, but it’s clear that they don’t have a choice. Pietro whispers to himself and she thinks it’s the prayers their mother used to say before bed.

“Piet,” she whispers. “It will be alright.”

It’s not and they both know that, but pretending is better than nothing. 

“Right this way,” Eiseman says, voice oddly gentle. 

Wanda steps forward, climbing onto the bed and laying on it, closing her eyes against the large machines positioned near her head. She hears Pietro do the same. Her brother mutters a few Sokovian curses as he tries to get comfortable but Wanda keeps her mouth shut, jaw clenching against her fear. Her eyes stay closed too, even when Eiseman touches her hair, twisting the end of her braid through his fingers. All of this feels wrong, wrong, wrong. 

But the need for revenge is enough to stamp out the doubt.

“Now, the first injection will have a little bit of a sting.” 

Wanda’s eyes shoot open when a metal needle is placed on the inside of her arm. Eiseman is smirking down at her as he pushes the needle in. It hurts much worse than a sting. Wanda gasps sharply as red hot fire fills her veins and a scream escapes her clenched teeth before her vision goes black. 

—— **_Alexandria, Virginia 2014 ——_ **

Warm lips move over Steve’s neck and pull him out of a lingering dream state. It takes two blinks before he recognizes the warm feel of Natasha in his arms, pressed against him in the best way, and a third blink before he realizes she’s got her thumbs hooked in his boxers.

“Tasha?” He groans out sleepily. She hums a noise of acknowledgment against his neck and tugs at the elastic waistband. 

“Lift up,” she says. Steve knows an order when he hears one and does what she says, even in his half-asleep haze. He can feel her smile against his skin.

Her teeth graze the pulse point in his neck and Steve groans. “Tasha.”

Reality rushes back and he remembers they’re not alone, the walls in Sam’s house aren’t soundproof and they _really_ shouldn’t do this here, but her hand closes around his cock and he decides he doesn’t care. It’s been too long since he’s been able to lose himself like this with her between running from HYDRA and healing from his injuries after fighting Bucky.

He’s already half-hard but it only takes a few strokes of her hand to get him fully standing at attention and panting for more. He doesn’t trust himself to speak so he grabs a fistful of her hair and pulls her down for a searing kiss. Her thumb rubs across the head of him, spreading the wetness leaking there, and Steve bites her bottom lip as a warning.

Even completely silent, Natasha knows the bite for what it is and she releases his cock and rolls on top of him, and _fuck_ , she’s already naked. When did she get naked? It doesn’t matter, Steve reasons, because she sinks onto him in no time and then he’s lost completely.

Most of their fucking on the run has been frantic, stolen interludes in the back of cars or in closets where they can find the time. But the world has already ended so it doesn’t matter if Natasha takes her time, laces their fingers together and rolls her hips like waves in the ocean.

Steve keeps one hand in hers, squeezing with each of their movements while his other palm traces a path up over her hip to her chest. Natasha bites her lip to hide a moan and he grins, thumb flicking across her nipple the way that she likes. 

“Steve,” she moans. It sets his blood on fire when she says his name like that. Steve adjusts, planting his feet in the bed to thrust hard up into her and gets rewarded when her walls clench around him.

“Shh.” He moves his hand from her chest to cover her mouth. Natasha bites him and he thrusts up harder in response, the slow and lazy turning into something a little more desperate.

He thinks he’s got her right on the edge when the knocking starts.

“Ay, I made breakfast if you _heathens_ decide to crawl outta bed and join us!”

Sam’s voice echoes even through the closed door and Steve doesn’t bother to stifle his agonized groan this time. Natasha pulls his hand away from her mouth and smirks down at him. She rolls her hips three times in rapid succession, arching her back to take him in deeper and Steve glares up at her half-heartedly.

“We’ll be out in a minute, Sam, thanks,” he manages to grind out through gritted teeth. Natasha smirks.

“Save us some pancakes!” She calls out like she’s not reaching between them and driving Steve absolutely insane by touching herself.

Sam snorts. “Yeah, except they’re gonna be dry as hell cause _somebody_ took the damn syrup!”

There’s muffled laughter from the kitchen and Steve squeezes his eyes shut. His hands find Natasha’s hips and try to still her movements so he doesn’t come while someone is trying to keep up conversation on the other side of the door.

“Got it. Be right there,” Steve grunts out, trying to put as much finality in his voice as he can. Natasha’s nails are digging into his chest now, flicking over his nipples and making his cock twitch inside her.

Sam taps the door in a farewell gesture. As soon as Steve hears his footsteps taper off down the hall, he rolls them over and growls in Natasha’s ear.

“You’re evil.”

“I thought you were enjoying it,” she teases. The mirth stays in her eyes for all of two seconds, until Steve snaps his hips forward and fucks her faster, and then there’s nothing but heat and lust.

Her legs are hitched up high on his waist so it takes some maneuvering but he manages to work his hand between them and press his thumb to the side of her clit the way she likes. She shudders and pulses around him, coming hard with her teeth sunk into his shoulder and Steve lasts only a few seconds longer. He presses his face into her neck with a wordless noise of pleasure. His hips stutter as he empties himself inside her.

“Good morning,” Natasha says when they finally catch their breath.

Steve chuckles and rolls off of her. “Yeah, that’s one way to say it.”

Cleaned up and dressed, they make their way to the kitchen where the others have already convened for breakfast. 

“Put that down, sparky!” 

Sam is near the sink brandishing the spray nozzle in Darcy’s direction. The woman in question has an entire bottle of syrup in her hands and she looks poised to dump the contents of the bottle directly into her mouth. The faucet is already running, all Sam has to do is press the button to turn the nozzle on. Darcy looks down at the nozzle before looking back at Sam again. The tiniest drop of syrup falls onto her tongue due to gravity but it sets the other off. 

“Stop stealing my syrup, you fiend! You and the other superhero already took a bottle!” 

Sam lets loose a spray of water and it hits Darcy directly in the face. She sputters and drops the syrup, trying to block the water with her hands. 

“Steve! Clint! Natasha! Save me,” she shouts, coughing, running from Sam so she can hide behind a kitchen chair. 

“Take that,” Sam says triumphantly, turning off the nozzle and shutting off the faucet. 

There is a puddle of water left behind in the spot Darcy vacated but Sam will deal with that later. Right now he has two more enhanced refugees to feed. 

Natasha steps around the puddle of water with an amused look to grab a plate from the counter. “I’m positive that I don’t want to know what’s going on out here.”

“What’s going on,” Darcy threatens and holds out her left hand, “is that our dear bird boy is about to get his ass shot up with lightning.” Her fingers spark at the tips and Sam grimaces.

“Hey!” Clint actually looks a little pouty. “I’m the bird boy around here, thank you very much. He’s not even an Avenger.”

“Y’all are in _my_ house!” Sam shoots them all looks. “And I made breakfast! I think that’s enough to get me an honorary Avenger spot. Not to mention all the ass-kicking and world saving I did back at the Triskelion? Did we all forget that?”

“Sam’s just mad because we took his syrup,” Clint says with a piece of bacon held between his teeth. It comes out all muffled but Steve gets the gist of it.

“So you’re the syrup fiends?” Steve grins and grabs a mug of coffee. 

“It was necessary!” Darcy huffs. She steals the rest of the bacon from Clint and plops herself in his lap. “Now that you two are done canoodling in the guest room, can we focus on our next move please? Because there’s an assassin out there who requires some attention.”

Steve tenses and his fingers tighten on the coffee mug. Bucky. No matter the small amount of bliss he has here, how easy it would be to stick his head in the sand, it all comes back to Bucky.

He owes it to him to find him and bring him home.

“Right,” Steve says. Everyone in the room sits up a little straighter, waiting for orders. “Let’s make a plan.”

**_—— German countryside, 2014 ——_ **

That is the third HYDRA base he’s taken out this week; almost fifty in the last five months. This particular base isn’t one he was ever taken to, but it still deserved to go. 

It all does. 

It was barely guarded; Bucky ( _or am I James?_ ) had had little trouble breaking in and taking out the hostile force. It’d been too easy and Bucky ( _James?_ ) had worried if it was a setup at first. But none of the handlers he knew were there; only a few lackeys sitting around doing nothing. Buc- _James_ watches the flames burn from the collapsing building. He feels no sense of achievement in killing and destroying the remains. HYDRA had forced him to do that for more years than he cared to think about. At least, this time, it was of his own free will. 

_Does that really make it any better?_

The voice sounds too much like the man on the bridge. 

Too much like Steve. 

James is remembering things now, slowly. He remembers a gentle voice, a wisp of floral perfume. He thinks that must have been his mother but he can’t remember what she looked like, only her laugh and her soft touch to his hair. Remembering what he should’ve been hurts. 

_No going back now, Buck. The only way is forward._

The Steve in his head was right. The only way _was_ forward, even if it meant distancing himself from the safe haven Steve would provide. It’s too dangerous. HYDRA is still out there and James has to do his part to make sure they never hurt anyone again. 

**Author's Note:**

> Give us those kudos, y'all! <3


End file.
